


Endeavour: Temple

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse (TV), Inspector Morse - Colin Dexter
Genre: 1970s, Cantor, DCI McNutt, F/M, Holocaust deniers, Judaism, Kidlington Station, Synagogue, bat mitzvah, rabbi - Freeform, series seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Joan and Morse attend a celebration for a friend. An unwelcome guest shows up.Set between series seven and eight. Continues from the story 'Return.'The verse mentioned is Exodus 22:21: "You shall not oppress the stranger among you, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt."
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Kudos: 1





	Endeavour: Temple

Endeavour: Temple  
by Parakeetist

It was easy for Joan to lose track of time at work. Sometimes she got so deep into a conversation with the children or the parents, she didn’t notice until it was an hour over time.   
“Do you have to go?” asked Sylvia, the young mother who was picking up her child, Basil.   
“Yes, I’m afraid. Can’t put in for too much overtime.”  
“See you later, then.” The young woman gave Thursday a hug.   
“Bye now.” Joan gathered up her purse and briefcase and punched out at the time card machine. She headed for the bus stop.   
Except that this time, the bus was a black Jaguar. She looked at it with some shock.   
“Hey,” Morse said, rolling down the window. “Get in.”  
Joan did. “How did you know I would be this late?”  
“I was late too. Had to get used to everything at – well, that’s part of my story.”  
“Story? What happened?”  
“I started work at Kidlington.”  
“A new station?” She blinked, realizing something. “Are you not going to work with my father anymore?”  
“No. He’s finishing out his time at the old station. I’m under DCI McNutt now.”  
“Oh. Is that what you wanted?”  
“It’s for the best.”  
She looked troubled. “I know you don’t want to tell me what goes on at the office. But I’m sorry. If things get better, then, you’ve got more time to work than my Dad does, so-” She trailed off.   
“You’ll like where we’re going tonight.”  
“Oh?” She grinned. “Say, where did you get this car?”  
“From your father. At a reduced price. Gravely reduced.”  
“Oh, something wrong with the engine?”  
“It’s about a thousand years old. Other than that, nothing.”  
“What’s my Dad got to drive, now?”  
“A Ford. Nice one. It’s blue.”  
“Used?”  
“A bit, yes.”  
They drove for a while. Morse pulled over at a block overlooking the river.   
He opened the door for her. They stepped into a restaurant, the Black Anchor. The concierge handed them off to a waiter.  
When they were sat at table, they picked up the menus. “I think I’ll have the shrimp scampi,” Morse said. “What are you having?”  
“I’ll have the pork cutlet.”   
“Sounds good. Waiter?” Morse signaled the man. He read their orders, and requested a bottle of white wine.   
“You said you had news?” she asked.  
“Yes. I’m due to take the DI test in a few days.”  
“Oh! Congratulations. Do you think you’re ready for it?”  
“I wasn’t ready for any of the other tests, so I’ll just go through it.” He smiled.   
“Did they give you a book, to study from?”  
“I took one out of the library at the station.”  
“What is the new place like?”  
“Like any other station. It’s a mess.”   
“Did you get your own desk?”  
“Yes. If I pass the test, I may get an office.”  
“Here’s to your success.” She raised her glass, barely sipped from it, and put it down.   
“You don’t like the wine?”  
“I don’t normally drink very much.”  
“Oh. Well.”   
She handed the glass across to him. “You finish, if you want.”  
“Okay.” He put the glass next to his own.   
In time, the server brought their dishes. They set about eating.  
“This is very good,” Joan said. “How is yours?”  
“Quite good.”  
“Thank you for bringing me here.”  
“You’re welcome.” He smiled briefly.   
“Do you have to supervise any other officers?”  
“A couple. It’s not really together yet.”  
“Oh.” She stared at him, then looked down at her plate.  
“Do you think I can’t really do it?” He gave her a lopsided grin.  
“I don’t know. Only you can determine that. Good luck, though.”  
“I realize what’s troubling you. It’s my business with your father.”  
“You didn’t really explain what all went on in Italy.”  
“I don’t think I can go into that.”  
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, whatever happened.” She paused.   
“Well-” Morse pulled at his tie. “This is awkward.”  
“Here.” Joan went in her purse and got out a few pound notes. “This is for everything.”  
“No! You don’t have to do that!” Endeavour looked insulted. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”  
“All right.” She put the money away.   
“Oh. You don’t have to-” Morse looked to the side.   
“Well! Let’s just, ah, can I get a box to take the rest of this home?” Joan asked.  
“You don’t want to eat?” He paused. “What’s wrong?”  
“I have something to say.”  
“What – what is it?” He waved to the waiter. “Please bring a box. Thank you.” His eyes turned back to Joan. “What did you want to tell me?”  
“It’s not something I care to repeat in polite company.”  
He tilted his head. “Ah, really? We’d better go.”  
The waiter gave Joan the box. Thursday put away the food. She stood up. Morse followed.  
They went out to the car and got in. He turned to face her.   
“Now, what did you mean?”  
“If you have such a problem with my father, that you had to move stations, how am I supposed to talk with you, be with you? Morse, he is my father, and I still love him. Even if I don’t like everything he’s done. Family is family.”  
“I know. I know,” he said quietly.   
“I guess this is it. For us.”  
“What? You don’t have to do that.”  
“Dev, you are making me choose between my father and the man I love. I don’t like that.”  
“Oh-” He was stunned.   
“I ought to get a hotel tonight. Maybe the women’s shelter will take me.”  
“Are you joking? No. You’re coming right home.”  
He started the car and moved into traffic.   
When they arrived at his house, he opened the door. She walked in behind him. Joan put away the food in the refrigerator. She brushed her hands down the front of her dress.  
She would not look Morse in the eye.  
“Now, I’ll be going to work tomorrow. Then I’m going to a thing, for the daughter of my friend, from the office.”  
“Oh?”  
“Her daughter is having a bat mitzvah. I said I’d go. You know, when I got back to the office, she was so happy to see me again, she handed me an invitation. It’s in my purse.”  
“Okay. That’s fine. Where is it?”  
“At the Morgan Heights Synagogue. At 6:30 in the evening.”  
“Oh. Well, have a good time.” He smiled.  
She slipped into the bedroom, and got out a nightgown. She changed, and put her clothes in the hamper.   
When she got into the room, Morse was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Here.” He tapped the mattress beside him.  
She sat down and was about to swing her legs under the sheets, but stopped. He reached over and pulled her legs toward the center of the bed. She tugged on his sleeve, bringing him down toward her. She kissed him.   
Endeavour pulled off his shirt. Joan pulled off the undershirt. She touched his chest.  
He hastily undid his trousers and pressed her knees apart. He pulled at her underclothes.   
“Oh-” Morse yelled. “Ah-”  
He growled and pushed. Joan held on to him. His pace became frantic.   
Suddenly, he finished, and moved off of her. He threw an arm over his forehead.   
Joan lay there, holding the sheets up to shoulder height. She didn’t know what to say. She closed her eyes.   
“You all right?” Morse said. She continued to try and fall asleep. He gently shook her arm. “Hey!”   
She opened her eyes. “What?”  
“Well?”   
“Ah…” She tried to think of something to say that would be tactful. Meanwhile, he discarded the rest of his clothing. She took off hers as well. “May as well be comfortable,” she said, and grinned.   
“Come on, then!” He snorted. “Did you…?”  
He half-smiled. She closed her eyes again.  
“Dev, let me sleep.”   
“Did you like it?”  
She opened her eyes. “Ah… yes.”  
“You sure?”  
His lips curled up. She paused a moment.  
“Well… you could use another gear.”  
“Oh? Tell me about it.”  
She did.   
When they finished for the second time, he moved to lie beside her, and said, “You’re the best person I’ve ever been with.”  
She was shocked. “Dev, really?”  
He nodded. “I mean it.”  
She pulled him close and kissed him. “I love you.”   
“Get some sleep.”  
“Yeah.”   
They both drifted off.

…

The next day, Endeavour was heard to whistle in the break room at Kidlington.   
Cadet Lewis walked in. “Are we working together again, sir? And what’s got you so happy?”  
Morse looked up. “Hello, Mr. Lewis. Yes, we will be working again, if you’re at this station as well.”  
“I just saw Mr. Strange, in the morning meeting.”  
“Oh? I didn’t see him.”  
“He’s here.”  
“Well. All three of us. Anybody else?”  
Robert heard a woman’s voice. “I had such a hard time with the bus this morning. Street flooding. There was water everywhere. You wouldn’t believe it.”  
The woman walked into the break room. She was blond and very thin.   
“Oh, hello, Ms. Trewlove,” Endeavour said, with a smile. “Fancy seeing you here. Looks like a lot of people from the central office are coming over.”  
“That’s a strange coincidence, sir.” The woman looked baffled for a moment, then took off her cap. “Pleased to see you again, though.”  
“How was London? Why did you leave?”  
“Long story, sir.” She looked at Robert. “May we have a minute?”  
“Of course.” Robert walked out of the room.  
“I was involved in a serious accident. We were chasing someone. I was the passenger. Another officer was driving. Someone clipped our vehicle, and it flipped over.”  
“My God.”  
“I took some injuries. I was out for four weeks.”  
“And you went back?”  
“It’s my job.”  
“Well, good luck to you. If you need anything, just ask.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
She threw away her cup. “See you.”  
“Bye now.”  
She left the room. Morse straightened his shoulders. So many people were hiding problems. You never knew what anyone had to deal with. Maybe he’d stop at a chapel, when he was done with his shift.   
The end of the day arrived. Endeavour said goodbye to DCI McNutt and clocked out. He got in the car.   
The radio station played a sprightly flute number. Then the announcer spoke. “Friends, we are going to postpone our live coverage of the concert tonight. The police have stopped traffic in town.” Morse frowned. “There is a man with a gun. He is screaming about something. If you see this person, do not confront him. He is armed and extremely dangerous. Folks, I’m going to play some piano pieces for you now. Please try to relax.” The next piece began to play.   
Endeavour wiped the sweat off his head, and thought about crossing to the incident scene. Then he figured the DCI would be very cross about that, as he’d be interfering in someone else’s case, and he was better off letting the other officers be.   
He worked his way over to the Welfare building. He parked and got out. Morse paced in front of the building, waiting for Joan to come out.   
In minutes, she emerged, accompanied by a brunette in her early forties. “You know, Laura, I didn’t realize your girl was growing so fast,” Joan said.   
“We’re proud of Harriet,” Laura said. “She spent so long working on her speech.”  
“Hello, ladies,” Endeavour said.   
“Oh, Morse. This is my friend, Laura Thompson.”  
“Afternoon, ma’am.”  
“Hi.”   
“Well, I’ll be picking up Harriet, and my husband. Meet us at the place at half past six.” Laura kissed Joan on the cheek.   
“Sure,” Joan said, and watched Thompson walk away. “Well!” she said to Endeavour. “She’s got to be nervous.”  
“I didn’t get a card, is that all right?” Morse tugged his right ear.  
“I did. And a gift certificate. We’ll be fine.”  
“Let’s go eat.”  
“Don’t mind if I do.”  
Morse parked at a place a few blocks away. He went to place the order. “Two fish and chips specials, please.”  
“We’re out of it right now.”  
“Out? Of fish? In a fish place?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Is this England?”  
“I believe so, sir.”  
“Well, what do you have?”  
“Chicken. Clams. Prawns.”  
“Ah, one chicken plate, and one prawns, then. And two sodas.”  
Endeavour paid. Joan found a table.   
“Do you have to do anything at the service?”  
“No, I’ll just be watching. I brought my camera.”  
“There will be a dance afterward, won’t there?”  
“They usually have that, yes.”  
“I wonder what the girl’s thought of for her speech.”  
“Her Mom said she’d been practicing.”  
The food was ready. Morse brought over the tray. They began to eat.  
Joan put ketchup on her chips. Endeavour’s mouth opened.  
‘You’re supposed to put vinegar. Here.” He passed her a bottle.   
“But I like it this way.”  
“All of a sudden you’re an American.”  
“What’s wrong with that?”  
He blinked.  
“Did you hear about the man who was running around screaming in the street today?” she continued. “It was terrible.”  
“Yes, I did. Did he injure anyone?”  
“No. He did have a gun. Nobody was hurt. But it must have been terrifying for the people in their cars.”   
“Let’s just eat.”  
“Right.”  
Joan swirled her chicken in honey mustard. Morse stared at her. “You’re really going to eat it like that? Don’t you want some sauce or something?” He looked among the bottles on the table. He found none to his liking. “I don’t know what to do with you.”  
“Just let me eat.” She chewed her food. Endeavour shook his head.  
“I don’t know what this country’s coming to.” He blinked, and went back to eating his prawns.   
They finished. He took their plates to the garbage. “Let’s go,” he said. They walked outside.   
Morse looked up at the sky. “Clouds,” he said.   
“It rains a lot of the year, in this country.”  
“Yes, but I always think it won’t, for some reason.”  
“I never thought I’d say you have too much hope.”  
“Oh, do I?” He smiled. “At the service, do we have to say anything?”  
“No, we just watch. The rabbi will lead the prayers.”  
“And you and I get to – stand there.”  
“Pretty much. Relax. Be happy for Harriet.”  
“Okay.”   
They got in his car. All of a sudden, Joan took out a facial tissue and dabbed it at her face. Endeavour looked out the other window as he drove, then turned to the front. It was only when Joan put the tissue in the well next to the armrest that he noticed it was full of blood.  
“Have you got a cold?” he asked. “Should I take you home?”  
“Oh, no, it’s just this thing that I have. Get.”   
“The flu? What is it?”  
Joan took out another tissue. “I’m going to be fine.”  
The second one filled up with blood as well. Endeavour stopped at a light and looked at her. “You’re not well. Something’s wrong.”  
“Well, I can’t go to the hospital. They’ll take one look at me and send me home with bandages.”  
“That’s better than just letting it run. Are you supposed to lean forward or back?”  
“I don’t remember.” She tilted forward a little. “I’ll be all right.”  
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”  
“No! I don’t need to.”  
Endeavour grimaced. He punched the steering wheel. Joan was startled, but didn’t say anything. “All right. Where is this place? It’s a couple blocks over, I think.”  
He turned down a side street, and saw a sign for the temple a couple of corners away. There was a car park across from the building. “Good,” he said, and prepared to turn.  
He parked. They got out. Joan wiped her face and put the tissue into her purse. “Are you all right?” Morse said.   
Joan nodded. “I am.” He took her arm. They walked through the front doors.  
“We’re a little early. Have a seat.” Morse looked around as he spoke. “I’ve never visited one of these before. Looks almost like a church.”  
“There’s a reason for that, you know,” Joan said. They sat on a bench in the lobby. She heard the cantor warming up. “Listen. Nice voice.”  
“Hmm.” Endeavour picked up a bulletin, which had a page dedicated to tonight’s event. “’The Morgan Heights Synagogue is pleased to host the Bat Mitzvah of Harriet Thompson. Rabbi Thomas Sheridan. Cantor Elwood Michigan.’” He put down the booklet. “What passage will she be reading?”  
“I think something from Exodus. ‘You shall not oppress the stranger among you, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.’”  
“And she’ll rake it in on the presents.”  
“This is the only such day she’ll ever get. You’re only thirteen and a day once.”  
They watched guests walk in. Families clustered together. Little children ran up and down in the lobby. At last, a staff member came out and spoke to the crowd.  
“Welcome, everyone. We’re glad you have come to share this occasion. Where are the Thompsons, please?” The couple and their daughter walked up. “Right. Thank you. We’ll be convening in the main hall. Follow me.” The man opened the doors to the central room, and the crowd began to follow.  
Everyone found their places and then stood in the pews. The service began.   
When it was time, young Harriet walked up to the Torah scroll and picked up the silver pointer. The rabbi smiled and stepped out of the way. She began to recite.   
At that same moment, a man stepped into the room.   
He was in his late thirties, and wearing a white t-shirt, beige jacket, and blue jeans. “Can I have your attention, please?”  
Harriet stopped. Everyone turned to look at the man. A couple of men near the doorway murmured to each other.   
“That’s the man from the news. The crazy one.”  
“What?”  
“That looks just like the guy. Same outfit.”  
“Call the police.”   
“You watch him.”  
“Can anyone tell me,” the intruder said, “how many people really died in the Holocaust?”  
"Millions!" someone called out. A ripple of disgust went through the congregation.   
“Sir,” Rabbi Sheridan said, “you must leave. You are disrupting a private event.”  
“Why won’t you let me talk?” From under his coat, the man pulled a short-barreled gun.  
A gasp went through the crowd. Joan trembled. Endeavour stepped out into the aisle.  
“Sir, I’m with the police. You’ll have to leave. If you walk out now, I’ll-”  
The man pulled a pistol from inside his coat. “I demand answers.”  
“I’m with the police,” Morse said, and stepped into the aisle. He pulled out his ID, and quickly put it back. “Put the gun down.”  
“Who are you to tell me that? I want to talk to these people.”  
Endeavour stepped forward, one foot at a time. The man kept his gun up.   
Then two men in the crowd sneaked out into the aisle. One of them kicked the man from behind, in the ankle. The other grabbed the gun. Morse jumped onto the gunman’s body and flipped him over. “Does anyone here have handcuffs or duct tape?” he called out.  
The rabbi motioned to a teenage boy in the front row of the crowd. “Go into my office and get the plastic fasteners out of the desk drawer.”  
“Yes, sir,” the boy said, and ran off.   
Minutes later, he returned. He brought the ties over to Morse.  
“Thank you.” The detective leaned down next to the gunman’s ear. He tied the man’s wrists. “What is your name?”  
“Errol Randolph.”  
“Errol Randolph, I am arresting you on the following charges. Unlawful use of a firearm, causing a public disturbance…” Endeavour went on, until he had finished reading the man his rights. He hauled Errol to his feet. “Someone call Kidlington Station. Ask for a patrol car,” Morse said, to the men who had stopped Randolph’s progress. “Who are you, by the way?”  
“I’m Stephen Posner,” one of the men said. “This is Matthew Farrell.” Stephen was in his thirties. Matthew was a few years younger. Both of the men had black hair, and wore simple suits.  
“Thank you.” Endeavour panted as he stood there and absorbed the adrenaline surge. “Let’s wait for the car.”

…

Over an hour later, when Mr. Randolph had been transported to the station, and the assisting officers began to take interviews with the guests, Joan made her way over to Laura. Mrs. Thompson was trembling. Her husband, Leonard, stood with his hand on their daughter’s shoulder. Harriet was shaken, but not crying.  
“I’m so sorry. What a terrible person.” Joan gave Laura a hug.   
“The rabbi will have to let us set up another day,” Leonard said.   
“I’m sure he’ll say yes.” Laura smiled and hugged her daughter.   
“Are you okay?” Joan asked Harriet. “You can cry, if you need to.”  
“Maybe later,” the girl said. “I hope that man gets to read while he’s in prison.”  
“You’re very kind,” Joan said. “I don’t know if I could forgive, after that.”  
“It’s hard. I want to try,” Harriet said.  
The rabbi stood in the middle of the room. “Everyone, please go home. We invite you to call us and ask when we will be able to finish this celebration. And we will.”  
“I’ll be leaving,” Joan said to Laura. “Be strong.” She hugged Harriet, and went to talk to an officer, about giving her own report of events.   
Another hour went by. Joan had to wait for two people to finish talking to the police. She sat down in a pew and spoke to the PC, who wrote her answers down on a sheet. He gave it to her to look over. She signed at the bottom.  
“You may leave, ma’am.” The PC’s name tag said Gary Driscoll.  
“Thank you, PC Driscoll.” Joan put her bag on her shoulder, and went to catch the bus.

…

A month passed by. Morse came home after every work day and threw himself down in bed almost immediately. He hardly spoke to Joan. She’d make dinner, they would eat, he would use the washroom and strip down to his underclothes. He’d crawl in the bed and grunt.   
Then a call came, from Laura. The service was rescheduled for the next Saturday, at noon. Would they like to go?  
Yes, they would, Joan said. She was so happy to hear the news.  
Harriet did a fine job with her reading of Exodus 22:21, in Hebrew and in English, and finished off her speech on the topic with aplomb as well. She spoke about not taking away the rights of others; that she wanted to thank the police officers, and the two men from the congregation, who helped everyone that day; and said that she had mailed Errol Randolph a book about the Holocaust.  
Everyone applauded. When the service was over, Joan and Endeavour drove over to the events hall, where there was a dinner and a dance.  
They stepped out on the dance floor. Morse stepped along more slowly than the beat of the music. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been out of the world of the living. You’ve had a chance to speak to your Mom and Dad.”  
“Yes. They were both terrified. And they were glad no one was hurt.”   
“I went to a shrink.”  
Joan looked at him. “You did? I’m so glad to hear that.”  
“Yes. He put me on trazodone. That’s why I’ve been sleeping so much.”  
“Oh. Well, I guess that’s a side effect.”  
“Yes. What is this called, klezmer music or something?”  
“Yes. The beat’s actually pretty fast. I didn’t expect that. Look at how – mature everybody is.”   
“You almost said ‘old.’ You remember my hair went white for two days, right after it happened. I didn’t have to dye it. It just went back.”  
“Thank goodness.”   
“Let’s sit down a minute.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
They found their chairs and drank some punch. “I hope this is the low-sugar kind,” Endeavour said. “Did I tell you? The doctor says I’m diabetic.”  
“Yes, you told me. I’m sorry.”  
“Thank you. I’ve been taking my insulin.”  
“Good.”   
“Yes. I’ll have to remember, before I go to sleep.” He sipped the punch again. “What about you? Did you get any news?”  
“Ah, yes, I did.” She frowned for a second, and finished her drink.   
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.”  
“Dev, I – I-” She stopped.  
“Finish,” he said.   
“The reason I had that nosebleed, is leukemia.”   
“Oh, no.”  
“We’ve got another thing in common. We’re both ill.”  
“Isn’t everyone, sooner or later.” Morse patted her on the shoulder. He excused himself, and went back to the buffet table. When he came back, he held out his plate of chicken bites and little cupcakes.   
She took some of the food. “This isn’t bad.”  
“Party food. Fills your stomach, just the same.” He wiped his hands on a serviette. “Come on, let’s get going.”  
They stood up, and went to say goodbye to Harriet and her parents.   
“Thank you for coming,” Laura said.  
“Get whatever you want. Enjoy it,” Joan said to Harriet. The girl nodded.  
They walked out to the car park. Morse drove home.

…

At the house, Morse headed to the bathroom, while Joan slipped out of her shoes. She fished a serviette-wrapped cupcake out of her purse and ate half of it. She put the remainder in a plastic bag, then left the bag in the fridge.   
She went into the bedroom and changed into a nightgown. She put on the radio. They were playing “You Really Got a Hold On Me,” by the Beatles. She smiled.  
Endeavour walked into the room. He quietly shut the door, and began to slip out of his clothes. He left on his underwear. Then he got under the covers. He turned to face Joan.  
“Are you taking any types of… pills?” he said.   
“I used to get them shipped in from Canada.”  
“They’re illegal.”  
“The government wants us to have children.”   
“For once, they’re right.” He kissed her. “I want you to stop taking the pills, as of tonight.”   
“All right.” She kissed him. “Am I in trouble, because of the pills?”  
“Hmm, we’ll see.” He pulled her toward him.   
He quickly pulled off all their clothes. They lay side by side. She moved her knee in between his. He shook his head, and lifted up her leg, setting it over his hips.   
He moved in a herky-jerky fashion. She gripped his lower back and held him steady, trying to regularize his motion. He shrieked. Her breathing became short.  
He groaned and pushed and tried to finish. Yet somehow, he could not. His breathing stopped for a second.  
Startled, she massaged his back more swiftly, pressing her fingers deep. He shouted and collapsed.  
He moved away from her, and breathed harshly. She got up right away and pulled on her gown.   
She ran to the bathroom and got him some water. He drank half the glass at once, and slammed it on the little table next to the bed.   
At last, his breathing became normal. He threw his arms above his head. She nestled in beside him.   
After a moment, he said, “I’ll talk to the doctor. Hate having to ask permission to… do this, but… my health is at stake.”  
“Maybe he can give you medicine to help with – your pulse rate.”  
“I don’t want to have a heart attack.”  
“Oh God, no.” She cupped his cheek. “Stay, you hear me?” She kissed him, and settled back down into the sheets.   
She felt drowsy. As she closed her eyes, she heard him murmuring, “Robert… Philip… Elizabeth… Renee…” She realized he was reciting possible names for the children.  
Joan thought Morse was like a kite in a gale. She would have to pull awfully hard to keep him, and hope that he didn’t get ripped away.   
As Joan’s own father had said, at the party for his and Win’s twenty-fifth anniversary, the life of a policeman’s wife was not often easy. Neither would be the lives of Joan and Morse, if they decided to proceed together.   
Joan pulled the sheets up around herself. You didn’t always have to pick the answer in a hurry. She had tonight.   
She slowed her breathing, and eventually slept. 

THE END


End file.
